


Five times Dean prayed to Castiel and one time he didn't

by Zeryx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeryx/pseuds/Zeryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam snorts. “You sound like a teenager mooning over his boyfriend.”</p><p> Dean rolls his eyes and rotates his index finger to mime whoop-de-doo. He sighs. “Yeah, yeah, heard it all before.”</p><p> Sam gives him a soft look. “It’ll be ok, Dean. He’ll be ok. It’s Cas.”</p><p> “Yeah, I know. It’s always freaking Cas.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times Dean prayed to Castiel and one time he didn't

 “Cas, you got your ears on? Really in kind of a jam here, buddy. “  
  
  Castiel materializes out of thin air, looking rumpled and sleepy. Squinting, he mumbles “Hello, Dean,” and yawns.

  "What the—were you sleeping?”

  “I have recently discovered the joys of “napping”, I believe it’s called.”

  Dean looks on in disbelief.  
“Cas, napping is for five year olds, not—anyway, can you help me with this?”

  Dean is pinned under a large, rotten oak tree. “Wendigo got the jump on me and I got unlucky. Fortunately, I got it in the eye with a silver knife and it took off.”

  “Are you injured?”

 “Nothing I can’t walk off. Now get me out of here.”

 “Of course.” Cas gives the rotted trunk a series of rapid jabs with his angel blade, beating out a woodpecker-like staccato. Dean yelps at the force of the splintering wood driven into him with the blows. A few acorns plunk onto his forehead as Cas moves a section of trunk off of him.

 “What the heck, dude? You nearly cracked my ribs! Why don’t you grab an axe?”

 “If you find my help deficient, may I suggest the fire department?”

 Castiel glances up sharply, head cocked to one side like an owl hearing mice scuttle through the undergrowth. “I must go.”

 Dean is left to squirm out from the other side by himself. “Cas? What the hell! Cas!”  

 

 ***

 

 An endless trail of bodies with burnt-out eyes and triangular stab wounds is the only clue Sam and Dean have towards finding their knight-errant angel. Dean’s lips twist in annoyance.  “Wish he’d just pick up the freaking phone!”

 Sam snorts. “You sound like a teenager mooning over his boyfriend.”

 Dean rolls his eyes and rotates his index finger to mime _whoop-de-doo_. He sighs. “Yeah, yeah, heard it all before.”

 Sam gives him a soft look. “It’ll be ok, Dean. He’ll be ok. It’s _Cas_.”

 “Yeah, I know. It’s **always**  freaking Cas.”

 Sam hides a smile into his hand.

 

***

 

 The three of them are working a case, a town near the bunker has had tonnes of signs of demonic activity happening. Mutilated cattle, lost pets, freak twisters, the works.

 “Alright,” Dean mumbles through a mouthful of doughnut. “Sam, you make with the puppy-dog eyes with that lady who lost her dog. Maybe go as a wildlife officer?”

 “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll pretend it’s coyotes.” He raises his coffee cup to his lips and Dean mirrors him; they swallow the hot brew down in sync. Cas, meanwhile, is touching his fingertips together repeatedly, seemingly fascinated by the texture of the powdered sugar stuck to them. He raises a finger to his mouth and darts his tongue out to lick at the white-dusted digit.  
Dean nearly chokes on his coffee when Cas shoves the finger into his mouth, sucking greedily and near moaning.

 Sam looks between the two and smirks. “That’s really not good for the blood pressure, dude.”

 “Ah,” Cas looks up, eyes wide. “This chemical is remarkably complex; wonderfully engineered.” There is a ring of white sugar around his mouth. Dean snorfles pathetically while Sam smiles tentatively.

 “You’re excited over maltodextrin?”

 “English, Sammy,” Dean mutters, tossing his empty cup in the trash.

 Sam rolls his eyes while Cas sucks greedily on his fingers and Dean tries not to have a heart attack.  “Corn sugar. Remember how much trouble we had avoiding it during that whole Leviathan thing?”

 “Oh yeah.” _Cas, will you please stop doing that_  Dean prays. He’s blushing, a hot flush all the way up to his neck and the tips of his ears as he hears obscene sucking noises from Cas’s direction.

 Sam shoots him a pitying look that is half-smirk, the smug mother-fucker. “Ok, so I’ll go talk to the people with missing pets and the farmers. What’s your plan?”

 “I’ll talk to the ones left behind, the widows and orphans. Cas’ll be my demon spotter.”

 “Oh yeah, guess you can’t work _Christo_ into casual conversation.”

 Dean resists the urge to wipe sugar off the corner of Cas’s mouth when he catches Dean’s eyes.

 “You know,” Cas says with a thoughtful look, “glasses treated with holy oil fire can see demon’s true faces the same way they can see Hellhounds.”

 Dean’s jaw drops, “Oh. Uh, well…. I hate looking like a nerd. Besides… it’s better to have back-up.”

 Cas looks up at him from angling his head down to suck at the join of thumb and index finger. “That is prudent, Dean.”

_  I am so screwed.  _

  Sam hands Cas a napkin and mimes a circle, raises his eyebrow, grins.

 “Sam, I am unsure what—Oh.”

 

***

 

  Naomi has just left Garth’s boat and Dean doesn’t know how to feel. _I know that lying dick is full of shit_.  He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. _But I can’t believe he doesn’t trust **me**._  
“Cas, come back,” he whispers. _I am so damn tired of him disappearing_.  
It’s left a constant ache in his chest since Purgatory. Hell, maybe there’s been a Cas-shaped hole in his heart since he dumped the angel off at the nut-house. He’d managed to ignore the utter helplessness it made him feel to leave Cas there by burying himself in hunting Dick Roman.

 When he left Cas in Purgatory—when Cas had stayed behind—well....the nightmares had come. At least he’s had Benny since then, but now he’s lost _him_ , too. The only other person he’d ever call brother, and his life was ended by Dean’s own hand.  _Cas... please man, I need you_.

 The following year Gadreel orders him to turn Cas away the moment he shows up at the Bunker. Cas is human, vulnerable; clearly needing a friend in a way he hasn’t ever before. The irony is heavy and bitter as blood on Dean’s tongue.

 

***

 

 Dean stares at the blood flowing over his wrists, mind blank from the release of bloodlust.  
He’s on his knees, blinking slowly, breath coming in harsh pants. His pulse is very gradually starting to slow; the blood roars in his ears and thrums under his skin like he’s been running for miles.

 The cries of his last victims ring hollow in the silence of the dingy living room. His fingers twitch, remembering the snap of bone as he’d broken one man’s arm in his haste to stab another. He tries so hard to let none of those he kills suffer; it dims his mind in the flame and blood-tinged haze he associates with his time in Hell under Alistair. The knife in his hand feels cool—reassuring—as he clutches it tightly and the Mark teases him with the hazy whisperings of a post-coital lover. Some days he wonders how much of him is actually left after years of being pulled in so many different directions.

 Dean blinks sweat out of his eyes and suddenly there’s Sammy, his North Star.  
“Tell me you didn’t have to do this! Tell me it was them, or you!”

 “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” Dean mutters through numb lips and swollen tongue, and there’s Cas, watching him as always. Silently judging him against the soul he pulled from the pit and finding him wanting. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and is hugged by his brother.

 Sam’s big paw is cradling his face and it’s too much, the smell and feel of blood and Sam together. The Mark starts screaming again, even though he just fed it. He shakes and shakes because he’s flying apart, he’s fucking losing it—but then Cas is there, huge midnight dark eyes soft with compassion, cool grip encircling the Mark—and suddenly he can breathe again. The bloody blade drops from his nerveless fingers.

 

 ***

 

 “Cas, _Cas_ …” Dean is drowning, heady with lust, drunk on the unreality before him.  
His limbs are tangled up in endless pale hard flesh; anchored by a punishingly tight grip and the slow slide of the angel’s body above him. “Cas…” he moans in helpless litany as they rub together, slick and panting.

 Castiel twists his grip on Dean; they gasp hotly into each-other’s mouths as their lips brush together.  “Dean…” He intones in a solemn grave resonance like a church bell.  Dean goes rigid beneath his angel, save the frantic rolling of his hips and eyes. He shudders all over, gasps. Cas licks into his mouth, slowly and deliberately; he burns like a brand in Dean’s hand with each tandem stroke of his tongue.

 “Christ, I...I never…”

 “Dean… you will always deserve salvation.”

 A tear slides from the corner of Dean’s eye and he pushes Castiel up and back. The love in the angel’s gaze is fathomless, softening all the hard lines at his mouth and eyes—answering his beloved’s own.

 “Cas…” Dean slides down, settles between his lover’s thighs; silently, he worships Castiel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my ever constant Beta reader, [Hit_The_Books](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books). Special thanks for canon-checking for me. Hope you guys enjoyed this, please feed my pretentiousness by leaving feedback!


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